


my world is changing (does that mean christmas changes, too)

by imnotinclinedtomaturity



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas, F/M, M/M, family included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotinclinedtomaturity/pseuds/imnotinclinedtomaturity
Summary: For their first Christmas as fiancés, David goes with Patrick to visit Marcy and Clint in his hometown. Late on Christmas Eve, David can't sleep and wanders into the kitchen, where he runs into his soon-to-be in-laws.
Relationships: Clint Brewer/Marcy Brewer, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	my world is changing (does that mean christmas changes, too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barelypink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barelypink/gifts).



> written for the prompt "Patrick takes David home for the holidays. Lots of fluff and Marcy Brewer. (Clint too, but I love that Marcy so very much.)"
> 
> i love fics with marcy and clint, so I was so so excited about this prompt :) i'm sorry, i had a really crazy work december and by the time i worked out what exactly i wanted to write, i couldn't get QUITE the whole thing written in time!! i'm going to add a second chapter, probably of about equal length, sometime before christmas!

* * *

Sleeping in new places didn’t use to bother David; in fact, he used to spend at least half his nights in new places — whether it was a hookup’s trendy uptown loft or a luxury suite in a foreign hotel — and he almost always slept better there than his lonely penthouse in SoHo or the wing that was once home in his parents’ mansion. 

Now, though, David spends almost every night — every  _ single _ night — in a familiar place. In the past three years, he can count on his two hands how many nights he’s spent in bed that wasn’t at the motel, Ray’s, Patrick’s, or Stevie’s. And now he’s spending nine of them —  _ nine!! _ — in a bed that’s not only completely foreign to him, but is located in a town that’s four  _ hundred _ miles from the little town that (for better or worse) he considers home now.

It’s Patrick’s home, though. Or, at least it  _ was _ Patrick’s home. David’s not really sure what it’s like to have a sentimental childhood home to come back to. Even if his parents still owned the mansion, it wouldn’t compare. Going back to the mansion for Christmas was always an  _ event _ , but it never felt like he was coming  _ home _ .

And as much as he loathes to admit it, David knows that when he drives back into Schitt’s Creek next week, that it will.

Or at least, it mostly will. Alexis isn’t there. 

_ No _ , Alexis is spending her Christmas — and her Thanksgiving and Hannukah and New Years and Valentine’s Day — in a new place.

Which, David tells himself, is great for her. _ It is. _

It’s just — it’s Christmas Eve and it’s the dead of night and he’s stupidly wide-awake in bed with his fiancé fast asleep beside him in this tiny bed in his future in-laws’ house and he can finally accept that for the first time in his life, not being able to picture where Alexis is bothers him not because he’s  _ worried _ , but because he  _ misses _ her. 

With a huff, David yanks the covers tighter under his chin and rolls over for the… twelfth? time in the last… hour? Maybe?

Great, now David needs to know how long he’s been lying here, trying desperately to quiet his mind and drift off. 

Trying to shift the bed as little as possible, David pushes himself to his elbows and snags his phone from the nightstand. _ 12:18, _ it flashes at him, far too bright for his eyes.

David turns the brightness down and opens his conversation with Alexis. The conversation is still there, and she still hasn’t responded (not that David had expected her to, it is even later there, after all). 

_ Alexis [10:58 PM] _

_ OMG David, you are going to be so jealous when  _ _  
_ _ you see the pics of this hotel Ted surprised me with  _ _  
_ _ for Christmas! There’s a pool with a bar INSIDE it and  _ _  
_ _ the spa has facials like that one you got in Switzerland _ _  
_ _ and liked so much. The wifi is NOT good though. I just  _ _  
_ _ tried to facetime mom and dad and it did NOT work.  _ _  
_ _ I’ll talk to you when we get back to the research center  _ _  
_ _ on the 27. Sorry David! Say hi to Button for me! _

_ David [11:22 PM] _

_ maybe you can use the room phone to call me tomorrow?  _ _  
_ _ i’ll be at patrick’s cousin’s ugly sweater party (i wish i was  _ _  
_ _ kidding, it’s going to be a crime against fashion. and NO i’m  _ __  
_ not wearing an ugly sweater). i could answer my phone  _ _  
_ __ if you called though.

_ David [11:24 PM] _

_ merry christmas (in the galapagos, it’s still christmas eve here) _

So it’s been an hour, David realizes dully. A full hour of tossing and turning and developing dark circles under his eyes that Patrick’s entire extended family will have to stare at all day tomorrow.

Hot chocolate. David needs hot chocolate.

Locking his phone, David crawls out of bed and slips on his well-worn Uggs. Despite never touching outside ground, the boots have nearly worn a hole in the right sole from constant use. Hopefully, the tastefully-wrapped oversized box that Patrick brought all the way from Schitt’s Creek has a new pair of soft wool house shoes inside it.

The Brewers’ house is still unfamiliar to David, and he runs into three pieces of furniture as he tries to find the bedroom door in the dark. Biting his tongue, David just barely manages to hold in his tirade about the  _ proper _ placement of furniture and the importance of nightlights when you have guests. The doorknob, when he finally finds it, feels like victory in his cold hands, and he lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

Mercifully, the light over the stairs is still on. Patrick may not be aware of the correct host/light etiquette, but it’s not surprising that Marcy is. Once he’s in the hall, David is able to slink his way into the kitchen without any more loud bangs to call attention to his late-night wanderings. 

The kitchen, however, isn’t empty when he reaches it — it appears all of his sneakiness wasn’t necessary. 

“I thought I heard movement from you boys’s room,” a soft voice greets David from the table. “We weren’t sure if we should prepare for company or turn on the radio.”

David flushes and he finds himself unable to meet Marcy’s eye as the unwanted picture of Patrick’s parents overhearing them having sex floods his mind. Unfortunately, David’s gaze drifts all the way to the counter, where it catches Clint’s instead. With smiling eyes, Clint flashes David the same cheeky smirk that he’s used to getting when Patrick teases him, and David feels his cheeks grow even hotter. 

“Uh…” David starts, not knowing what exactly he’s supposed to say or do in this situation. As far as he knows, there isn’t a  _ Miss Manners _ chapter on responding to your (almost) in-laws’ sex jokes. Plus, he hasn’t been completely alone with them since their awkward conversation at the motel before Patrick’s surprise party. 

“The kettle’s still warm,” Marcy continues, saving David from having to figure out how to finish his response. “Tea bags are in the wood box by the stove.”

“Oh, uh...” David’s gaze flits to the box before finally landing on Marcy, who is sitting at the table with a knitted blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a steaming mug in front of her. Even from the doorway, David can tell that her mug is sloppily handpainted and has had the handle re-attached with some sort of glue. A few years ago, David would have wondered if it was trash. Tonight, David wonders if it’s special.

Marcy smiles patiently, her eyebrows raised in gentle encouragement, and takes a sip from her mug.

“Actually,” David continues. His voice comes out higher than normal and is surely giving away his anxiety. “Do you, um, happen to have any hot chocolate?”

“Of course,” Clint answers, immediately turning around to rummage through a cupboard. “Hot cocoa is my favorite nightcap when I can’t sleep.” 

“Mine too,” David agrees softly, his lips twisted to the side to head off a small smile. There’s another way he’s changed. He’d always thought he’d have to lie or tame himself if he wanted to get along with potential in-laws (not that he seriously thought he’d ever have in-laws). And at twenty-five, saying his favorite nightcap was plain hot chocolate would have been a  _ huge _ lie — his hot chocolate nightcaps used include a mug that was more bourbon than chocolate and were paired with a nice pill or two instead of a handful of mini marshmallows. Now, at thirty-five, he really does prefer just the hot chocolate, and preferably with a nice splash of milk to make it a bit creamier.

Clint sets a family-sized tin of mix and a mug on the counter and slides them towards David with a smile. “Good taste,” he says approvingly.

David catches the supplies before they can slide all the way to the edge and fall to the floor (what is with the Brewer men and  _ throwing _ things? Can’t they just hand things like  _ normal _ people?). Clint must be serious about his love for hot chocolate; the tin is nearly empty and there’s a scoop inside the tin that looks as if it permanently lives there. That’s kind of gross, David thinks. He’s glad Patrick doesn’t do that.

“I don’t know how you and Patrick can drink tea,” Clint teases Marcy, a kind twinkle in his eyes. “It’s just weakly flavored water.”

“This chamomile is specially blended to promote sleep,” Marcy quips back with a put-on pompous air. “Unlike that sugary mess you drink.”

“But at what cost?” Clint whines. “I’d rather have flavor and a bit too much sugar than drink boring hot water.”

It sounds like they’ve had this conversation before.

“Patrick fusses at me about switching to tea late at night, too,” David offers, glancing up as he pours hot water into his mug. He immediately hopes it doesn’t seem like he’s genuinely complaining about Marcy and Clint’s child  _ to _ them.  _ Miss Manners _ definitely doesn’t recommend that as a method for getting into good graces with in-laws.

“Stand your ground, son,” Clint advises, his face a picture of grave seriousness except for the playful look in his eyes. 

“I will,” David nods rapidly, a smile pulling at the edge of his lips. He re-caps the tin and  _ walks _ it over to Clint — the  _ correct _ way to hand someone something. Clint offers him a spoon, and David flashes him a quick gracious grin. Carefully, David stirs his hot chocolate and does his best not to slosh any over the sides like he normally does.

“Although,” David continues thoughtfully as he watches the powder dissolve in the hot water. “Ever since Patrick got his own apartment, he’s always kept a jar of mix in his cupboards, even though he doesn’t really drink it.”

Clint raises his glass in Marcy’s direction in a silent toast. “Like mother, like son.”

“He actually wants to get Ray a case of the artisan mix we sell in the store for the holidays.” David sips his hot chocolate. It’s  _ hot _ , perhaps a bit too hot, but it’s already comforting.

“Is it that much better than the kind from the grocery store?” Clint asks.

“Obviously,” David responds, trying to keep the outrage out of his voice. He swallows another sip of his cocoa and tries again. “But mainly, I think he realized how much of Ray’s I used to drink when he lived there.”

“That sounds like Patrick,” Marcy says, sounding proud and… something else that David can’t quite place. “There’s milk here on that table if you want a splash, dear.”

David definitely does. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he fills the remaining space in his mug all the way to the brim with milk. 

“Sit with me while you drink it?” Marcy’s tone is halfway between an offer and a question.

“Okay,” David nods, settling into the chair next to Marcy, one leg automatically curling up beneath him, his hands wrapping around the warm mug.

“You seem like you’re in good hands, Marcy. I think it’s time for Mr. Claus to head to bed,” Clint chimes in, pushing off from the counter he was leaning on. He crosses the kitchen and bends slightly to drop a kiss on top of Marcy’s head. “Goodnight Mrs. Claus.”

“Goodnight, sweetie.” Marcy squeezes Clint’s hand once before turning her attention back to David. “So, dear, what’s got you up at this hour on Christmas Eve?”


End file.
